Brother Digger
by maroucia
Summary: While residing at the Gates of the Moon, Alayne Stone is so bored with her routine and the lack of fantasy of her life that she ends up amusing herself by pretending one the castle's visitors - a very tall and broad silent brother - is the Hound. Not betayed.


_Hi everyone!_

_This story was written for Three Hills to thank her for the wonderful Sansan dolls she sent me months and months ago! It took me forever to write it but now, here it is at last! Three Hills gave me a lot of freedom with the prompt but she did tell me she wanted the story to take place in the Vale and that Sansa hugged Sandor at one point in it. And so, here's what I did with it. :)_

_WARNING: not betayed! Read at your own risks!_

**Alayne**

Alayne was striding through the long central corridor of the Gates of the moon, eager to get to the kitchens. Having already broken her fast a few hours before, she was anything but hungry herself, yet Sweetrobin had only just woken up with a rumbling stomach and had begged her to fetch him something as soon as she had entered his room to check on him. On the previous evening, the poor boy had had another one of his fits and after having been given sweetsleep, he had been brought to his bed to rest hours before supper. While his state seemed to have improved considerably this morning, it was preferable that he stayed in bed until Maester Colemon had examined him and so, Alayne had acquiesced to his demand and immediately left his chamber.

To get to the kitchens, one needed to pass by the common room and as she entered through its large threshold, Alayne expectantly swept her gaze over the place, the rhythm of her pulse increasing. The room was bathed in sunlight and empty of people as always at this hour, yet as she had hoped, her stare shortly fell over the dark shape of a sturdy-looking man sitting alone by a window. _It's him! _she thought, a shiver of excitement going down her spine.

"Good morning, Brother Digger," Alayne called, her lips curving in a shy smile.

When he heard her voice, the man promptly stood up from his chair and headed in her direction, stopping at only about two yards from her and nodding to salute her. As most of the other holy brothers of his party, Brother Digger was sworn to silence and he thus never spoke._ It's better this way,_ Alayne mused. _It makes the illusion even more believable. _He looked so much like _him_ after all…

A fortnight before, a group of holy bothers of the Faith had arrived at the Gates of the Moon, coming from the Quiet Isle and demanding asylum against the violent storm that raged outside. Some of them had been in such bad shape that they were still recuperating even now and the party had therefore been unable to leave yet though the weather had lately quite improved. They would wait until their weakest members were completely recovered before they continued on their journey to Gulltown and the truth was, Alayne was quite happy about the delay.

While the fact that holy bothers were at the Gates of the Moon should normally not have interested a young girl like her in the least, there was something special about that particular one. Indeed, Brother Digger was exceptionally tall and broad – even more than any of the guards and knights that resided at the castle – and somehow, his impressive physique reminded Alayne of someone she had known in another life. _Sandor Clegane… _the girl thought, the mere mention of the name sending her heart racing.

Looking up at the towering brother before her, Alayne tried to meet his gaze but it was hard with the fabric that covered his face and the deep hood he had pulled over his head, as always. In the shadow of his cowl, his eyes were hardly visible, yet there was no way in all the Seven Kingdoms she didn't feel how intently they were fixed on her. For it was not only Brother Digger's height and bulk that reminded Alayne of the Hound but also the strength of his stare. From the very first time she had been introduced to the silent brother, she had been struck by how much being looked upon by him woke the same mix of uneasiness and nervousness facing Joffrey's ex-swornshield always had. For some reason though, Alayne found that unlike Sansa, she revelled in the feeling. Being less fearful was apparently another of the perks of being bastard born.

"I hope you slept well and that everything is still to your liking here at the Gates of the Moon, Bother Digger," Alayne recited politely, a blush creeping over her cheeks despite herself.

The man nodded at her question, keeping his stare glued on her.

If the Hound had not been dead, Alayne would probably have allowed herself to truly believe it was him indeed - no matter how absurd the idea of the ex Lannister's dog turning to religion was. The similarities between them were simply too striking to ignore and the facts that Brother Digger was sworn to silence and had his face concealed at all time certainly helped keep the illusion alive. However, as Sandor Clegane's demise was widely known throughout the Seven Kingdoms by now, the girl had never doubted this was all only the work of her imagination. But there was no use in lying to herself either: Alayne revelled in the delusion very much and was far from eager to prove it wrong. Sometimes, she even liked to pretend it was the Hound in truth and that he had left his hiding place and travelled all the way to the Gates of the Moon especially to rejoin her. The notion was as foolish as the romantic songs Sansa had been so fond of, yet in spite of it all, it was also undeniably thrilling to let her mind wander in that direction. In her most pathetic moments, Alayne often liked to picture in her mind while sighing dreamily how the man would come to her chamber one night, reveal himself to her and help her escape… She knew she was being ridiculous, still her life had become so dull as of late that she was certainly not about to refuse herself such a beguiling distraction, no matter how whimsical it was.

"I was on my way to fetch some food for Lord Robin. He's been sick last evening, perhaps you've heard?" Alayne asked while distractedly twiddling a lock of long chestnut hair around her forefinger.

The tall bother shrugged and began walking. Alayne shortly followed and they strolled side by side through the common room.

It was not the first time Brother Digger accompanied her during one of her errands. Throughout the day, Alayne was always out and about and he had apparently taken a habit of putting himself in her path, ready to help her in whatever task she had to accomplish. In a way, that too reminded her of Sandor Clegane. He had so often been around when Sansa most needed him after all, saving her as much from a fall as from a crazed mob and escorting her to her room when he bumped into her wandering the Red Keep alone at night.

As she had expected, no maid was presents in the kitchens at this hour and so Alayne immediately headed to the large larder where she knew she'd find everything she needed. Following a step behind, Brother Digger was watching her every movement as he always did when they were together which made her deliciously nervous. The cheese was on an accessible shelf and so she picked a piece of Sweetrobin's favourite but the raspberry jam had been put away on the highest shelf, out of her reach. The girl was just about to leave the larder in search of a short stool when Brother Digger stopped her with a strong but not ungentle hand around her upper arm. Releasing it just as soon, he took a step forward to get by her side, took one of the jars from the shelf and handed it to her.

Jerking her head up to gaze at him, Alayne peered through the shadows of his cowl and for the briefest of instants, she caught a fierce spark, just like the Hound always had, gleam in his eyes. The sight made her feel weak in the knees. "Thank you, Brother Digger," she breathed, butterflies filling her stomach. She could still feel the warmth of his palm around her arm and she unwittingly raised her hand to touch the spot where he had held her a moment before.

The brother gave a curt nod of the head and Alayne soon realised she was staring at him. Without more delay, she averted her eyes, slightly flustered, and headed to the other side of the kitchen where she knew some baskets were stored. When she had found one the size she needed, she set it on a table and gathered the cheese and jam in it as well as some bread and a bottle of fresh milk.

As she was adding a napkin to the package, the man seized the basket's handle and lifted it from the table. "You don't need to come with me, Brother Digger. This is not so heavy that I can't carry it myself," Alayne assured him all the while hoping that he wouldn't listen to her.

As a reply, the man snorted and started to walk toward the exit and Alayne's breath instantly caught in her throat.

_It sounded just like… like him… _she mused, totally dumbstruck for an instant. _I think my mind is starting to play tricks on me. I shouldn't be surprised after having allowed myself to daydream so much lately,_ she rationalised, still slightly shaken as she followed in his path.

All the way to the stairs that led to Sweetrobin's chamber, they stayed silent as conversations were obviously a little too one-sided with Bother Digger but Alayne was happy to satisfy herself with his presence alone. Being bastard-brave, she had started taking his arm whenever they walked together about a week ago and since the man didn't seem to mind, she now always did it. She could tell he was very muscular and that his muscles were as hard as steel and she had often wondered how a holy brother of the Faith had ever become so brawny.

Without thinking it over, Alayne suddenly gave voice to her curiosity while distractedly letting her hand feel his bicep, very lightly. "Brother Digger? You… you seem awfully… _strong_." She blushed at her own insinuation; referring to a holy man's body was not very seemly but she continued anyway. "How did that happen?"

At that, the tall bother snorted again, the sound making Alayne's eyes grow wide and pulse increase in speed. _I'm really losing my mind._ Halting over the landing, the man turned to face her, pointed at his chest and mimed the act of shovelling all the while keeping the handle of the basket around his forearm.

"By digging? Oh, _of course_," Alayne replied feeling immediately foolish not to have figured it out on her own but then, another question came to her. "And what are you digging for?"

With his forefinger, Brother Digger traced a swift line over his neck, as if he was cutting his throat with a dagger, before pointing at the ground.

"_Graves_? Oh!" Alayne exclaimed, bringing both her hands over her mouth but quickly removing them when she realised she was being rude. It was not Bother Digger's fault if people died after all. "Well of course, someone has to do it, especially in this time of war…" she added sheepishly, hoping that he had not been insulted or wounded by her first reaction.

Looking down at her for a couple of seconds, the silent brother shook his head and exhaled loudly. Then, he seized Alayne's wrist with his large hand and brought it around his arm again before resuming walking.

How ironic it was. While the Hound had spent his life killing without a second thought, Brother Digger did the other half of the work by burying the dead. Who knew, perhaps the man had even dogged the graves of some Sandor Clegane' kills? The latter had spent time in the Riverlands not far from the Quiet Isle after all, if rumours were to be believed. The coincidence left the girl speechless and she didn't utter another word until they reached Sweetrobin's chamber.

When they arrived, Brother Digger pushed the door open and let Alayne enter first. Sweetrobin was still lying on his bed but her sat up and started babbling as soon as he saw her.

"Alayne? What took you so long? I'm so hungr…" he tailed off at glimpsing the man entering after her, his face growing long. Sweetrobin found all silent bothers extremely creepy with their brown-and-dun robes and large hood but he was especially fearful of the 'tall one', as he called Brother Digger.

"I did as fast as I could, Sweetrobin. The kitchens are far, as you know," Alayne answered while approaching his bed.

As she spoke, Brother Digger settled the basket on the table and returned to the threshold.

"Thank you so much, Brother Digger! Have a wonderful day," Alayne said, gazing his way with a great smile on her lips.

At that, the silent bother nodded his goodbyes and closed the door behind him.

Looking in the threshold's direction for a few seconds, Sweetrobin's gaze darted to Alayne as soon as Brother Digger's footfalls couldn't be heard anymore. "Alayne! I don't like him! Why did you bring him to my room?" he whined, clutching at his covers with his hands.

"He's a holy man, Sweetrobin! You shouldn't say things like that about brothers of the faith," she told him.

"But how can you be so sure? With that cowl over his head and face hidden like that, he could be _anyone_! How can you know he's not a horrible killer or even worse, a hideous monster like the ones in the songs?"

"Sweetrobin! Killers don't go around disguising themselves as silent bothers! Don't be absurd. Be quiet and eat your meal now," Alayne gently scolded him. How silly that boy could be sometimes!

A moment later, when Maester Colemon arrived, the girl kissed Sweetrobin on the cheek and left his room to head to her own chamber. She was still slightly agitated from the short time she had spent with Brother Digger, as always after having seen him. Just to think back on him made her belly flutter. _But why should I react this way to a man that reminds me of the Hound of all people?_ There was no logic in the way she felt, none at all!

Although perhaps if she enjoyed his company so, it was because the man not only reminded her of Sandor Clegane but also of her true identity: _Sansa Stark_. Ever since she had fled King's Landing with Petyr Baelish, she had been forced to leave everything behind – even her name and selfhood - and while she understood the need for it, it was becoming more and more tiresome to always have to pretend. With Brother Digger, it was as if she retrieved a small piece of herself and it was nice to recall even for but just an instant how it felt to be Sansa.

There was more though. When she had first learned of the Hound's death a few moons before, the girl had taken the news harder than logic commanded and cried herself to sleep many a night. She had not understood why she should care so much. After all, why should she be bothered by his demise when he had been naught more than another of Sansa's many jailers?

_Oh, but he was much more than that in truth,_ Alayne corrected herself. While he had not been Sansa's friend in the least, he had nonetheless left an indelible mark on her and whenever she had been by herself at night after his abrupt depart, she had been unable not to think at least a little about him before she fell asleep. No matter how daunting his presence had been, she had missed it from the moment he was gone, for knowing he was around had somehow helped Sansa feel safer despite the undeniable danger of her situation in the capital.

Most of all though it was the kiss they had shared Alayne had remembered in those lonely moments, for the Hound had kissed Sansa before he left on that night where even rivers burned like the Seven Hells. Rendered wild by his own fear and desperation, he had pressed a blade to her throat and threatened to kill her but then, after Sansa had sung him the Mother's hymn to soothe his rage, the man had brought his cruel lips to hers and kissed her before leaving her _forever_. That kiss had obsessed Sansa ever since, so much so that even now that only Alayne remained, she still thought about it when she laid under her covers in the darkness of her room.

_Oh, how confusing this is, _the girl thought wistfully while entering her chamber. Even herself, she couldn't make sense of it all but there was no use in trying and thus, she chased all thoughts away and went on with her usual routine.

**Sandor**

Sitting by a window in the common room, Sandor was distractedly gazing at the darkness outside. Small bits of hail were intermittently hitting the window in soft, repetitive noises - the only sounds to break the heavy silence that the castle had fallen into. The man had been installed in his seat for hours now and only left it to take a piss every once in a while or fetch himself another wineskin in the kitchens.

Earlier today, he had met the girl just where he was – the little bird, or _Alayne_ as she now liked to be called. _Littlefinger's bastard_, he sneered to himself. How unlikely the lie was, her being far too beautiful to come from such a plain man and too elegant to be anything but highborn.

From the moment he had first set his eyes on her a fortnight before, Sandor had recognised her and it was not those modest gowns or stupid brown hair that would ever have fooled him - or anyone else that had previously known her as Sansa Stark, for that matter. Sandor hated her new hair. He understood the logic behind the disguise but he nevertheless couldn't do anything but despise the idea. _To cover such pretty hair… what a bloody waste, _he mused, taking a long gulp out of his wineskin. The attempt was worthless anyhow: Littlefinger would have more chances of passing a dirty kitten for a pig than to make anyone believe the little bird was bastard born.

As always, Sandor was enjoying his time alone. It was good to be able to pull down that twice damned piece of wool he was forced to keep over his face at all time without having to fear someone would catch a glimpse of his telltale scars. Same as for the girl, the disguise had its use, yet it didn't stop it from being fucking bothersome and far too warm most of the time.

_It did give you a chance to 'befriend' the little bird though and you enjoy it don't you, you pathetic dog? No use in lying to yourself,_ he told himself while taking another long sip of wine. Sandor was no halfwit and he understood well enough that he had his silent brother's robe and cowl to thank for those sweet and genuine smiles she gave him so plentifully whenever she saw him. She truly seemed to enjoy Bother Digger's company, which certainly couldn't be said about the Hound's back when they were both in King's Landing. While the girl had been smart enough to understand that he was not the worse of her captors, she had nevertheless feared him as much as the Stranger himself and had barely been able to meet his gaze._ No wonder; just look at yourself,_ he thought, gazing at his reflection in the glass window. Scowling back at it, Sandor drank from his wineskin again.

Things were very different now that his ugly face was hidden and that she believed him to be a silent brother. It was certainly agreeable to be on her good side for once, to know how it felt to be well regarded by her. He had seen her beam at other men in the past and had found her breathtaking already even as a mere outside spectator but to behold her lovely face light up _for him _was a new and undeniably addictive experience. Although truth be told, her kindness was not veritably meant for him but for the buggering _holy man_ she believed him to be. There was no doubting that if he was ever to reveal himself to her, she'd change attitude in a heartbeat and grow distant and nervous, just as she always had whenever he surprised her in some dim corridor of the Red Keep.

_It doesn't matter who she thinks I am,_ Sandor decided, his mouth twitching just once. For the time being, her ignorance played in his favour and he would continue putting himself in her way as often as he could. He would collect her smiles and amicable words for as long as the lie could last. _But when it'll be time to depart, what will you do?_ he wondered. He couldn't well leave her here with Littlefinger, knowing how the bugger was and how he was most likely using her in many ways - one of which made him sick to his stomach. Yet, if he wanted to offer her his help to flee the Vale, he'd have no choice but to tell her who he really was and then, would she want to follow him? She might like and feel safe with Bother Digger but traveling alone with the Hound would undoubtedly not appeal to her in the least. She had no reason to trust him after all, especially after the Battle of the Blackwater and the terrible way he had behaved with her… Sandor wasn't sure what he should do._ Later. I'll think about it later, when the time comes._

With a sigh, the man tilted his wineskin to his burned lips but only a few small drops rolled into his mouth. He needed to get another one - but no. Mayhap he'd do best to head to the room he shared with the brothers and get some sleep if he wished to be able to wake as early as the girl and follow her around from afar, as he liked to do these days. Yes, that was what he'd do.

Standing up, Sandor pulled the piece of wool over his face again and walked to the exit. For some time, he strolled through a dark alley, letting his mind wander into nothingness but at one point, he heard a small, muffled cry coming from around the corner some distances ahead.

Curious, he hastened his pace to a stride and then, heard the same sound again. Only this time, he was able to distinct the voice of a female complaining.

"No!" she said. "Leave me please!" the voice cried out, this time louder.

_The little bird! _the man realised, his heart hammering violently into his chest. Without any hesitation, he sprinted in her direction. After turning a corner, the dark shape of two persons leaned against the side of a window came into view. There was a struggle, the girl was trying hard to push her attacker away but the latter had cornered her against the window, apparently adamant about getting under her skirts. _Not under my bloody watch!_

"Alayne, surrender to me! I assure you, you won't regret it," the bugger was pleading in a languorous whisper.

Sandor was now near enough to hear everything and see the scene in detail. The girl had her hands gripped at her attacker's shoulders in an attempt to stop him from getting too close but her efforts were not very successful, for the bastard held her flush against him with his hands around her waist. Sandor hated to think of what might have happened if he had not been around, yet here he was. The whoreson was so distracted by his actions and the little bird's body that he did not notice someone was approaching until it was too late and Sandor had seized him by the back of his collar. As he did, the girl's gaze rose to him and her eyes flashed with surprise. Yet, even before she truly could understand what was going on, Sandor yanked her attacker from her and threw him away.

"What the…?" the bugger let out as he hit the stone floor a few yard from the little bird.

As sole answer, Sandor kicked him in the ribs.

"Ah! Don't do that! I was only chatting with her!" the wreck exclaimed in an offended but slightly scared tone.

To show him what he thought of that, the man kicked him in the side again, this time with far more strength. "You take me for a halfwit?!" he hissed, repeating the gesture.

"Ah! Aah! Stop it!" the bugger pleaded, this time true fear lacing his voice.

_What a buggering sissy,_ Sandor thought to himself, a sneer of contempt pulling at his concealed mouth as he kept on kicking him. Once he reckoned the whoreson was battered enough, he lifted him from the ground by the front of his tunic and pushed him against the wall.

"Listen to me, you bugger. That girl is not to be bothered. Stay out of her way, _always_. If I ever catch you so much as glancing at her, I'll tear you're bloody eyes out. _Understood_?" he snarled through clenched teeth in his face.

"Alright!" the wreck replied in a weak, anxious voice. Then, after Sandor had released him, he hastily moved back a few steps from him before halting just an instant. "I swear I was only being gallant with the lady though! She'll lie if she says otherwise. And besides, what the fuck do you brothers of Faith know about any of this anyhow?" he yelled - trying to sound braver than he obviously truly was - before turning and striding away from them as fast as his new injuries permitted him.

Watching him flee, Sandor snorted in disdain yet he quickly turned his attention to the little bird. She was sitting by the side of the window and while her hair was dishevelled, her dress was still well in place, which reassured him. When he met her eyes though, they were wide and her mouth was opened as if in shock. _No wonder after what just happened to her._

"You… you…" she murmured, looking as if she had just seen the Others' army take form right before her.

For a short instant, Sandor just stared dumbly back at her but then, he abruptly realised his mistake. _Fuck. I've talked… She heard me speak…_

Shivering of all her length, the girl brought both her hands over her luscious lips and stood up. Her eyes were shining with fear and the pale skin of her face had turned ashen. To see her so scared and petrified woke a strange ache to Sandor's core. It had been easy to forget how it felt to be dreaded by her. _Playtime's over now,_ he mused sourly. There was no use in pretending anymore now that he had unwittingly denounced himself.

"Didn't I tell you before little birds shouldn't be wandering alone at night like this?" he rasped. "You'll only get trouble."

At hearing him, a jolt went through the girl.

_Here it goes again, _Sandor thought. Irked, he exhaled loudly, gloom flowing over him

"It's _you_!" she breathed, obviously totally taken aback.

"Yes_, it is_," the man snapped, his voice as sharp as a new weapon. The truth of her words was absurdly making him angry – as if he genuinely wished she had been wrong. Taking a step toward her, he snatched the piece of wool down from his face, revealing the scowl that now twisted he scared features

At that, the little bird inhaled deeply and flinched from him, her eyes growing even bigger. "I…I thought you were dead!"

"Disappointed, are you?" he growled, his jaw clenched tight.

Shaking her head faintly and looking utterly lost, the girl let out something in between a sob and a laugh and, out of the blue, she closed the gap between them and collapsed against his torso, her thin arms closing around him.

"It's you! _You_!" she exclaimed disbelievingly.

To feel her lithe frame against him took Sandor totally off guards and for a moment, he was simply unable to cogitate what was going on or even move so much as an inch. What the fuck was she doing? Had she lost her damned mind? Why by the Seven bloody Hells would she be glad to see _him_ of all people? Sandor had never been so baffled of all his life and yet, in spite of his incomprehension, he laid stiff hands over her upper arms, very lightly. At first, he was torn between the urge to push her away and his thirst to embrace her also but in the end, he settled for awkwardly patting her over the shoulders.

"You crazy little bird. I'll get you out of here," he promised her in a rough, disconcerted voice, tensing when she tightened her hold on him. After all if she was so desperate as to be happy to see a dirty old drunken dog like him, that meant it was his duty to take her out of that fucking place.


End file.
